


Spoil Me Pretty

by Ashida



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mild Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, possessive boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:16:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8485492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida/pseuds/Ashida
Summary: Victor always thought he was a reasonably strong person, but here with Yuuri he realized he was hopelessly, pathetically weak, because all it took for Victor to break, to arch his back against Yuuri’s mouth and plead, was for Yuuri to stop and look at Victor with those ravenous eyes that screamed mine and definitely not anyone else’s.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Timed myself for this mini fic, 45 minutes.

There wasn’t much Victor could do once Yuuri got like this. There wasn’t much Victor could think of that was better than this, either. Lying on Yuuri’s nearly too narrow bed where they both slept now, there was something so much more tangible about spending time in Yuuri’s room as opposed to that guest room.

 

Guest rooms were temporary, rooms where people came and went, but Yuuri’s room was permanent, and Victor liked to think that everything that passed between them in this room with a life’s worth of memories was permanent too.

 

Yuuri’s bed was cozy at best; sleeping meant tangled limbs and overheating at night because when Yuuri slept he turned into a living furnace – a charming one at least. It meant listening to the rain on the roof at night with Yuuri’s head cradled on his shoulder and his messy bed hair tickling Victor’s chin. It meant shaking the entire bed frame as Victor told a late night joke because hearing Yuuri actually laugh was something he’d never get tired of.

 

It also meant that when Yuuri got like this, out of control with his pupils blown and his cheeks deliciously flushed, that there was no place he’d rather be than this tiny bed with the _always_ fresh sheets - because that’s how often they needed changing now, this tiny bed that now smelt like the both of them not and not just Yuuri.

 

It was hot enough now without blankets, without clothes, without a thought in the fucking world except for Yuuri and the fact he was looming over Victor with an expression that made everything in Victor’s body throb.

 

All he could ever do though was whisper Yuuri’s name and try not to come shamelessly in his briefs as Yuuri’s switch flipped and he went to work on Victor’s body, as he started at Victor’s throat with gentle nips of his teeth and caressing laves of his tongue along Victor’s pulse.

 

Then it was carding his hands through Yuuri’s hair and holding onto the very fabric of his fucking being because Yuuri sure did a good job of making Victor _want_ to lose himself. This Yuuri was possessive and hungry, he was greedy and ambitious and Victor _knew_ that Yuuri wanted him all to himself. So Yuuri left his purple marks on Victor’s body with open-mouthed sucks on his collarbone and eager kisses on his chest.

 

It was satisfying on a level that Victor had never known in his life, satisfying on this self-centered scale that made him want to make Yuuri want him more, want him the _most._ He’d never been spoilt quite like this, because it used to just be what he was that got all the attention, world champion figure skater, history maker, rumored heart breaker, not Victor Nikiforov, who liked sleeping in with his dog on a Sunday morning, who liked his coffee black with no sugar, who sometimes liked to relax by doing nothing at all because everyone needed to stop and breathe every now and then.

 

Which is the only thing Victor could manage now as he looked down at the dark head of shower damp hair marking its way down on his skin to Victor’s hips. They’d definitely need another shower after this anyway.

 

Victor always thought he was a reasonably strong person, but here with Yuuri he realized he was hopelessly, pathetically weak, because all it took for Victor to break, to arch his back against Yuuri’s mouth and _plead_ , was for Yuuri to stop and look at Victor with those ravenous eyes that screamed _mine_ and definitely not anyone else’s.

 

And so Yuuri would suck at the soft part of his skin on the inside of his hip, hard and endearingly aggressive on the pleasure side of pain, and Victor had to turn and bury his head in the pillow that Yuuri slept on and _moan_ as the scent invaded his already overloaded senses.

 

Then it was dragging that head of hair back up to his mouth to kiss Yuuri senseless too, to kiss him _without_ the finesse that the both of them were now known for, but with a very urgent need because Victor was going to fucking come in his briefs anyway so he needed to make damn sure Yuuri did too.

 

He’d flip them over and grind his hips down to make Yuuri squirm, to make Yuuri realize that this possessive want worked both ways, and that he, Victor Nikiforov, was the only person who could make Yuuri tremble like this.

 

All his selfish needs would be granted then, because Yuuri would throw his head back and keen his name like it was the only word he knew, he’d dig his nails into Victor’s back and leave _more_ marks as he came with desperate rolls of his hips, and that was always the time Victor lost himself anyway.

 

But his favorite part was always afterwards, when Yuuri would look at what he’d done to Victor’s body with near horror on his face, he’d start with this adorable apology and so soft kisses on the places he’d attacked, and then it was Victor laughing because he wouldn’t trade those marks for anything, he’d kiss Yuuri quiet and smile against the lips that were never chapped any more if he could help it.

 

“Good thing purple looks good on me, don’t you think?” Victor would say, and Yuuri’s mouth would open in shock, that was before he’d see the tease glowing in Victor’s eyes, and then the bedframe would shake as Yuuri collapsed onto his chest and laughed, he’d shower him with kisses on those purple marks nonetheless, chuckling all the while.

 

And all over again Victor couldn’t help but think he was indeed truly spoilt, and he really wouldn’t ever get tired of it.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr! [here](http://captain-erwinmerica.tumblr.com)


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